


Sometimes you just need a drink

by laurynmakay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternating Perspectives, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I'd love to pretend I know where this is going, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, at least a little slow, might be explicit later, more like medium paced burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurynmakay/pseuds/laurynmakay
Summary: Harry and Draco are Auror partners and they’re friends, sort of. Draco wants more, Harry might too, both are too thick to do anything about it.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry and Draco had been partners for eleven months and reluctant, accidental friends for about eight.  
After the war, they had gotten tea and made their apologies and that was that. All was forgiven and they moved on with their lives. 

Harry didn’t even know Draco was an Auror until their boss had thrown them together on a case about two years ago. They fought the whole time and Draco had even ended up with black eye after Harry had forgone hexes, thrown his wand over his shoulder, and punched him. As an apology, he bought him a drink that night and they solved the case three days later. 

The next time they were assigned a case together, they still bickered the entire time, but going out for a drink after they solved it seemed to patch everything up. They kept working the occasional case together for months until some higher-up did the math and figured that they solve cases faster as a team than solo. 

The post-case drink had become a sort of ritual to them and often included odd hodgepodges of their friends. Once they all got past the old house rivalry stuff, it was all quite civil. As long as Draco ignored the very childish feeling in his stomach whenever he saw Potter or the fact that anytime he grabbed his hand to help him up or make sure they didn’t lose each other while running from trolls, he would suddenly forget how to breathe. Little things like that, just the stuff he had been ignoring since fifth year. 

It was on a November evening, after an illegal potion smuggling ring in the north had been expertly disbanded, that Harry Potter offered to buy the first round for his partner. 

“Absolutely not, Potter. I am tired and freezing and in too disastrous of a state to go out in public right now.” Draco gestured to his mud-soaked trousers. It really wasn’t fair that Potter could pull off the handsomely disheveled look so well and Draco just looked like a mess. 

“If you’re too roughed up to go out, how bout I just make you a drink back at my place? Can’t break tradition.” 

Draco’s exhaustion outweighed his stubbornness, so he mumbled a, “whatever” and held out his arm for Potter to apparate them back to his place. 

Draco didn’t think he had actually ever been to Harry’s flat before and was a little surprised to find that the most famous man in the wizarding world lived alone in a little flat in muggle London. The interior was a deep red and candlelit, a man with less taste might have called it ‘cozy’. 

“Here let me find you something to wear instead of your wet things.”

Draco really did try to ignore the tingling in his stomach when he imagined wearing Potters clothes, and imagining about a million other contexts in which he could also wear Potters clothing. He was simultaneously ripped out of his daydream and thrust further into it when Potter put a hand on his lower back and lead him down the hall. 

Draco stood awkwardly in the doorway examining potters bedroom while he dug through his dresser. Potters room was....

He suddenly realized that Potter was talking to him.  
“I’m not sure what I’ll have that’ll fit you, you’re so thin, but try these,” he handed Draco a stack of clothes, “you can change in the bathroom over there.” He pointed to a door in the corner of the room. 

Draco closed the door behind him and peeled his wet clothes off. He cast a warming spell over himself before pulling the fresh clothes on. Potter has given him a pair of black joggers and a deep green long sleeve shirt. Deep green like the Slytherin crest. Deep green like Harry’s eyes—potters eyes. Not that Draco had spent much time looking into Potter's eyes, or dreaming about them. He was a little impressed about how well the clothes suited Draco and wondered at how much effort Potter had put into choosing them for him. 

Draco stepped out of the bathroom and saw Potter facing the other way and pulling a red jumper over his head and he watched his back muscles ripple as he did it. When Potter turned around, he saw it had a large capital H in yellow across its front. He guessed it was a few years old, as it fit a bit snug around his shoulders.  
“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Shove off Malfoy. Molly makes them for us every year for Christmas and besides, it quite comfortable.”  
Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Clothes alright then?” 

“Yeah, they’re fine.” He crossed his arms. He could smell Harry on the clothes, on him. Smelled like broomstick oil and leather, and something purely masculine. “I believe I was promised a drink.”

“Right then.” He led Draco back down the hallway and motioned to a lumpy sofa, “Have a seat, I’ll be right out.” He walked into the kitchen, candles lighting themselves as he walks past. Silent, wandless magic. It was extremely sexy and he doubted Potter even knew he was doing it. 

Draco sat down on the edge of the sofa, it was more comfortable than it looked but he couldn’t seem to relax, despite his exhaustion. 

“You don’t need to sit like you’re meeting the bloody minister.” He turned to look at Potter. He was leaning on the doorframe, with a drink in each hand, casual as ever. Draco scoffed but sat back, taking the drink Potter places in his hand. 

Two drinks later, they were laughing together on the couch. Potter had a way of putting his hand on Draco’s shoulder or leg or forearm in order to get his attention, as if his attention was anywhere else. Two more drinks after that, well, Draco can’t actually remember. 

This was how Draco awoke in the early morning, dawn peeking through the curtains, to find himself laying stretched over Harry’s chest on his sofa with their limbs tangled and his hand resting on Harry’s stomach under his jumper. He’s not even sure why or when he started calling him Harry. Before he could really process the whole situation, he dozed off again, wrapped in Harry’s arms, in his smell, in his warmth. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was late morning when Harry Potter woke up. On his back, on his couch, with a weight on top of him. He was warm and quite comfortable, his arms wrapped around whatever, whoever was laying on him. His eyes fluttered open and he saw a head resting on his chest, a head of platinum blonde hair. He had a vague memory of a late night of drinking. He remembered the way Draco was nodding off. On a whim, he had reached out and pulled Draco to him, and watched as he fell asleep on his chest. 

Harry lifted his hand off Draco’s back and brought it up to stroke his hair. It was softer than one would expect. His features too were softer in his asleep state, he could see the remains of the young boy he had gone to school with underneath the hardened exterior of the man. He could see the boy he had developed a foolish crush on so many years ago. He could see how he had turned into the man he had pined for while he had to watch him be twisted by darkness. Then he got him back. Another chance to start over, to be friends with this beautiful man. And then friends wasn’t quite enough.  
Harry kissed his forehead, just once, while he was still asleep. No chance for ruining the fragile friendship they had built up so slowly. 

He watched him for a few minutes longer, until he started stirring. Harry hated that the moment had to end. 

“Draco, morning sunshine.” Draco made eye contact with him. His eyes widened then squeezed shut. He jumped back to the other end of the couch and his hands moved to his temples. Harry instantly missed the heat of Draco’s body on his, but he didn’t think that it was the time to think too hard on that. “Hangover?”  
“No, no, just a bit dehydrated I think.” 

“Can I get you some tea, or breakfast? I could cook.”  
“No, that’s— you can cook? No, never mind, I think I’ll just head home.”

“Are you sure?” But Draco was already gone, leaving Harry to sit alone and attempt to process the previous twenty-four hours. 

It was a dream come true, but yet not quite. It wasn’t right. He had imagined spending the night with Draco many times and none of them included getting mildly drunk and passing out on the couch. Worse was the way Draco had looked at him when he woke up, the panic in his eyes. It made him feel like he had done something wrong, like he had taken advantage. But that moment before he had awoken, Harry swore Draco had held him closer, he might have even heard his name on Draco’s lips, his first name. Since when did he call him that. Maybe he was dreaming about him. Then why the cold awakening? 

Harry had a few days off before he knew would be called into work and given another case. A few days to analyze and over-analyze everything that happened and didn’t happen and could have happened. 

Harry had been aware of his crush on Malfoy since fifth year but he hadn’t really accepted it until about a year ago, around the time they started working together on a daily basis, which led to Harry feeling quite awkward just about all the time. He hadn’t even accepted the fact he was gay until a year or two after the war. Even then it was really his mind healer, a sort of wizarding therapist, that figured it out in the end. He said one day in a session that maybe Harry hadn’t hated Draco all that time, he just hated that he could never save him. It was hardly Harry’s fault, when it’s been prophecized since before your infancy that you will save the world, it’s hard not to develop a hero complex. His therapist then made him think of other possible reasons that he might have had a hyper-fixation on Malfoy all those years. After giving roundabout, non-answers for about five minutes, Harry had just blurted out, “Well maybe I fancied him.” 

So now Harry was stuck in that tiny office every day staring at Malfoy in his perfect black suits, watching him mess up his perfect hair and smooth it back out just to mess it up again whenever he can’t solve a problem. Actually, at the moment, Harry was stuck sitting on his couch, staring at the empty space that the perfect git had been sitting in. 

After a few days, a couple of bottles of whatever was laying around, and about twenty cups of tea later, Harry decided he should face the office, face Draco. So he threw on some real clothes. He skipped the tie, Malfoy was always nagging him to dress “more professionally”. Harry was always telling him that his tight button-ups weren’t very practical when they were running for their lives, not that Harry didn’t like Malfoy’s tight button-ups, he did, very much, he just liked having something to tease him about. 

On a normal day, Harry would have walked to the guest entrance in the phone booth, but after a four day cycle of drinking all night, two of them at the pub down the street, and sleeping all day, he really wasn’t up for exercise, so he took the floo. 

Harry sat at his desk exhausted and admittedly a little worried about the awkwardness to come when Malfoy got in. Harry had never actually beat him to the office before, he really wasn’t a morning person. There was always a pompous git sitting across from him, sipping an expensive coffee. He was a bit lonely in the office alone. 

As soon as he thought it, the tall, blonde bastard sauntered in, cloak thrown over his shoulder, coffee in each hand, gorgeous as ever. Was he staring? Did Malfoy notice he was staring? It was just that his suit fit him so well and the buttons across the chest were straining slightly and Harry just wanted to reach out and undo them. He wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, until he was begging for more. He wanted to strip him naked and fuck him over his own desk.

“oh, so you’ve decided to finally show up. Here.” Malfoy handed him one of the coffees, “you look like you need it.” Did he bring this just for Harry? He didn’t even know he’d be in today. 

“We didn’t have a case.” Harry suddenly felt defensive and a little embarrassed from his where his train of thought had escaped to. 

“Yeah, but we had loads of paperwork. All finished now, no thanks to you.” 

Malfoy seemed genuinely bothered, so he decided it would be best to leave it. He could feel the first sips of coffee in his soul and it seemed to calm his nerves, though he could still feel the tension in the air, thick, awkward tension. Maybe it was just him and his suffocating feelings. 

Malfoy was still mumbling under his breath at his desk when a case file appeared in the middle of the room, floating in the air, because the ministry was nothing if not dramatic. 

“Lovely, another case. Were you gonna get that or should I?” Harry didn’t even have time to process a possible response before Draco’s long legs had carried him to the file. He sat back down and began reading the contents aloud. Harry was trying to follow along but there was something so damn distracting about Draco’s lips when he spoke and his delicate fingers when he turned pages. The caffeine must not have fully taken effect yet because Harry’s thoughts once again started wandering to things not suitable for the workplace, things like Draco’s lips and fingers wrapped around his cock. He would love that, seeing the perfect, pompous arsehole on his knees in front of him. 

Harry was only hearing about every third word when one in particular snapped him out of his haze. 

“Ireland?”

“Yes, Harry. The suspicious happenings are in Ireland.” He didn’t even process the fact he had just been called by his first name. 

“But why do we have to deal with it, hasn’t Ireland got its own Aurors? We’ve only just got back from the north.”

“Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said. The Irish Aurors have investigated and haven’t found the cause, so it got passed up the chain of command.”

“But why us?” 

“Because apparently we’re the best team available at the moment, though I’m not sure how considering you’re acting like a whiny child.” Harry forgets to be offended because he was looking Draco’s lips again, now sneering at him. He wants to kiss that signature smirk off of his face. 

“Anyway, portkey leaves tomorrow morning at eight. Do some research.” Draco summoned a pile of books and files onto the desk in front of Harry With the level of focus he could manage today, it was going to be a very long twenty-four hours.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why do we have to walk so far?” If Draco had known the portkey was going to dump them miles out of town, he wouldn’t have worn shoes that cost more than the entire contents of most people’s Gringotts vault, and he definitely wouldn’t have packed quite so much in his weekender bag if he had known he would be carrying so far. 

After his father had been sentenced to Azkaban for life and Potter’s testimony had gotten his mother pardoned (apparently he was willing to go on record saying that Lucius been controlling her the whole time and that she had even saved Potter’s life by lying to the Dark Lord), Narcissa wanted to make sure that even if his father managed to escape from Azkaban, he would have nothing waiting when he came back. So she signed everything over to Draco. He was now quite rich, more so than he would have expected. He let her keep the house, preferring to get his own flat, somewhere with fewer memories of torture and murder, and he made sure she had everything she needed to be fully comfortable, but he did occasionally treat himself to something special. 

“We can’t exactly land in town square. What would you have us do, materialize out of thin air in front of a whole town of muggles?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter.” He spat out his name the way he used to when they were younger, but there was a barely detectable layer of playful teasing underneath. “But they very well could have had us pop into some alleyway or a broom cupboard.”

“Careful, Draco, or I might think you just wanna get me alone in some small dark place.”

Draco rolled his eyes but the blush peeking over his collar gave away that it was exactly what he wanted. He was very thankful though that Harry hadn’t spotted it. He still hadn’t gotten over waking up on top of Harry Potter with almost no memory of the night before. He was somewhat sure nothing had happened, but he really wasn’t /sure/ sure. Harry didn’t seem to be any more awkward around him, but he did feel like sometimes he would be looking right at Draco and still not hear a word he was saying. 

As much as Draco tried to stay in control of their cases, he was always anxious about his interactions with muggles. He had been through training and had years of experience, but he never lost the nagging fear of saying the wrong thing to a muggle. So when they reached the edge of town, Draco fell into step behind Harry and let him take the lead. It had the added benefit of letting him watch Harry’s ass while they walked. 

Draco followed him through town and stood aside while he talked with the innkeeper. She was a lovely older lady who asked them three times if they were sure they wanted separate rooms, looking carefully between them each time. Draco really hoped that his pale skin didn’t show the blush he felt. When the woman finally slid two keys across the counter, he grabbed at his quickly. At the same time that Harry reached for his own. Their fingers connected for what felt like ten minutes. Draco felt his face get hotter and he snatched his hand back, before marching down the hall. 

“Come on now Potter, we haven’t got all day to stand around,” he shouted over his shoulder, feigning indifference. 

Their rooms were right across from each other at the end of the hall. Draco was about to close his door behind him when Harry called out. 

“Meet in the lobby in an hour, we can get some lunch and decide our plan of attack.”

“Alright.”

Draco’s eyes slid down Harry’s body one more time as he watched him close his door. It was gonna be a long week. He already found it hard enough to control his feelings when they were sitting in an office, but watching Harry in the field was another thing, with him constantly showing off his immense power and his obnoxiously fit body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been months since I updated and this is a really short chapter, but I'm working on getting back into this story. I'll try to add more soon. Tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn’t been beta read, or edited at all really. I wrote it at one o’clock in the morning last night. Let me know if you find any mistakes. I am American so I apologize if the dialogue doesn’t sound very British.  
> I’m working on more chapters, but I’m not quite sure how many or where this is going. I am open to suggestions.


End file.
